


Papa's Bag

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean x Reader, Death, Death!Reader, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Reader Insert, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence, reaper!reader - Freeform, threat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11475303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Summary: I had a request for the reader being Death’s daughter, and being charged to take over his place. She’s reluctant, and not sure she’s cut out for it, especially when she has to confront the man who killed him. A/N: This is kinda how I would have written the end of Season 12, so spoilers up to and including that season. Also written as part of @thing-you-do-with-that-thing’s Hiatus Challenge Week 7. The written prompt is “Stop filming me, moron.”





	1. Part One

 

Y/N felt it when it happened.

It was like an icy wind blowing through her, the chill catching her to her very bones, and her heart stopped for a brief second, before returning to the usual thudding rhythm. Of course, even if her heart stopped, she wouldn’t die. Not the way she was built.

Being half a horseman had its perks. Although she preferred to live a human life, like her mother who had raised her, there was something amazing about seeing the world advance around you while you remained unchanged. She was forever twenty-five, forever youthful - well, she would be until the universe itself started the crumble. She knew she’d be the only thing left, aside from her father, but it appeared he was gone too.

Billie had come to her two days after she’d felt it. The ice had never left her fingers, no matter how she tried to warm herself. When the beautiful dark-skinned reaper had appeared, sitting comfortably on the cream lounger that occupied Y/N’s sitting room, she’d felt a little sick.

“Who?” she asked, her throat a little raspy. She was still wearing her pajamas, the little kittens on them almost ridiculous to see on a creature that could wield as much power as she could. 

“One of the Winchesters,” Billie replied, looking up from where she had one arm slung casually over the back of the chair. “Summoned him, didn’t like the deal. It’ll have consequences.”

Y/N scowled. “Not for them.”

“They’ll get their comeuppance.”

“Why do I feel like you have it in for those two? My dad was fond of them, as annoying as they can be.”

Billie shrugged. “They don’t play by the rules. And the rules are there for a reason.”

Y/N eyed her carefully, remaining stood a good distance away. “Are the rules what bring you here?” she asked. There was a sly smile on the reaper’s face, and she got to her feet, standing effortlessly in her stylish heeled boots. “I never wanted what he wanted, you know.”

“I know,” the reaper muttered, running her fingers over the large ornate vase on her coffee table, touching the delicately fake flowers in their display. Having fresh plants around when your touch could literally kill things was never a good idea, and Y/N had learned that when she’d killed six cactuses as a small child. Luckily, her touch didn’t seem to work so easily on humans or animals - she was grateful for the chance to actually own a pet once or twice, although she always outlived them by decades. “You like your little human life,” Billie commented, watching her thoughtfully.

“I do,” Y/N affirmed. “I know Dad wanted me to take over, but there’s any number of reapers that could be the next Death.”

“None like you,” she retorted, and Y/N sighed.

“None like me. But I don’t want it.”

Billie stepped closer, edging in on Y/N’s space, and the daughter of Death held her ground, tilting her chin upwards in a defiant manner. “I don’t mind taking the mantle for now. But at some point, you’re gonna have to step up, little girl.”

“Don’t call me that.”

The reaper barked a laugh, shaking her head, the luxurious black curls bouncing delightfully around her face. “I’m a millennia older than you, sweetcheeks. Come back when you’ve reached two hundred.”

“Get out,” Y/N spat, unwilling to hear any more.

“World’s gonna come crashing down if you don’t do what you were made for, Y/N.” And with that, the reaper vanished, leaving Y/N alone in her apartment. She scowled at the empty space in front of her, before punching the wall, leaving an impressive dent behind.

She was never made for this. She didn’t want to take lives, even if they were destined for it. She didn’t want to command armies of reapers, and answer Lucifer’s call if he tried. She definitely didn’t want to band up with the creepy uncles that liked to play havoc with the world, although as far as she knew, they were locked far away.

She was  _ not _ made for this. Y/N’s entire existence was because Death had fallen for a mortal, and in a moment of weakness - literally, a human lifetime was a moment to him - he’d given her a precious gift. Death’s Daughter, an omen among omens, and all she wanted was to live her life as a normal person.

One that didn’t age, and liked cappuccinos from the small Italian place in central Chicago, only a block or two from the pizza place her dad always took her to when he was around.

Death was not her name. It wasn’t her job. She didn’t want it, and she doubted she’d be any good at it.

But her father was dead. Killed by one of the good guys, apparently.

Wasn’t that a kicker?

*****

Over a year later, and Y/N got word that Billie was dead. She’d made a crap deal with the Winchesters (yeah, them again), and Castiel, the rebellious angel, had killed her where she’d stood. And Y/N was back on the chopping block, with reapers pleading to her to take up the mantle.

God, she didn’t want it.

But God wasn’t likely to listen either. He was off galavanting with his sister, after the Winchesters had Doctor Phil’d them into submission. It had been a close call - Y/N didn’t want to feel the world ending ever again.

So the world needed a new Death, a new head reaper. She couldn’t avoid it for much longer. Reapers would dog her every step, and she’d had to move herself to seven different cities so far. They always found her. It was like a homing beacon, her split soul, half human, half almost-deity, and every reaper for miles around knew where she was.

Then her father’s ring was left on her doorstep. She’d almost stood on it, and when she’d picked it up, running her fingers over the smooth metal, feeling the dimmed connection there, she’d cried, for the first time. It was stupid really. Her dad had been dead for months. She’d mourned him, but she hadn’t cried for him.

Slipping the ring on was probably the most ridiculous thing ever, and she’d regretted it the instant that she did. Her breath was taken away as the ancient magic surrounded her and swept her to the reaper’s plane, where thousands of them were gathered. She wasn’t even sure where she was; it was some sort of nondescript creepy forest with too many trees, blocking out the sunlight. And all those reapers - some of them looked like regular angels, but some of them were like… melted caricatures from an old Hammer horror movie.

Their yellow teeth made her shudder. Maybe they were collecting the dead, but was there a need to frighten the fuck out of someone when they did it?

“You came,” the closest reaper whispered, reverently, almost bowing to her. Y/N took an instant dislike to that, and shook her head.

“I just put the ring on,” she insisted, as another, older looking shrivelled man came closer to her. “I don’t -”

“That was all it takes. We have had no direction. No way to know if we are reaping the correct souls!” He sounded awful, like he was wailing, and Y/N was reminded of that stupid “scream” picture she’d seen in a museum once upon a time.

“I don’t want this,” she muttered, miserably, and the reapers frowned, as if they didn’t understand the words she was speaking. They mumbled amongst themselves, and Y/N sighed, twisting the ring on her finger. “I wasn’t made for this.”

“You were,” a voice called, and Y/N raised her head, scanning the crowd with a furrowed brow, wondering who had said it. The reapers parted like the Red Sea, allowing the single figure to step forward. She was tall, beautiful in that Grecian kind of way, with dark hair and the porcelain skin that belonged to all of the dead. Her smile was comforting, and Y/N watched, not reacting as she came closer. “I knew your father very well, Y/N. And your mother. She knew… she knew you would do great things.”

Y/N’s frown only deepened. “I don’t think killing people is a great thing.”

The reaper laughed, a pleasant sound that tinkled through the woods. Y/N didn’t think reapers knew how to make that sound, generally. “You aren’t killing. None of us  _ kill _ . We guide, we show souls the way. We deliver them to their greater intention.”

“Greater intention?” Y/N scoffed. “Heaven or hell. That’s not an intention. That’s a set destination.”

“But still, without us to guide them, they remain stuck in the veil.”

“I don’t see why you need me.” The beautiful reaper looked a little put out by that, and Y/N reinforced the expression by folding her arms over her chest, appearing indignant. “You don’t need me to do your job. You just… you know… do it.”

“Destiny must flow through someone. None of us are strong enough for that power.” She tilted her head to the side, watching Y/N carefully, chewing the inside of her cheek. It was such a human action that Y/N had to stop herself from chuckling. “Billie was not strong enough. She tried, but she was a poor substitute.”

_ Yeah, she ended up as a reaper-kabob. Like my dad did. _ Y/N’s thoughts were private and she kept them to herself. Her one fear, ironically, was dying. She liked life. She liked the way she went about it. But this… this role would end all of that, and she’d be personally responsible for making sure souls were collected and taken to their rightful place. Her father had always made it look so easy…

“You are the Daughter Of Death,” the reaper continued, and Y/N wanted her to shut up. “Someone must carry that connection for us to do our job. To help the souls that need guiding to the next life.”

“I don’t want to kill anyone,” Y/N said, aware that her voice sounded like a petulant child. Which was ironic, seeing as she’d ceased to be a child over a century ago. “I don’t think I can…”

The reapers murmured among themselves again, and the beautiful one smiled widely. “You have it in you, Y/N. Your father’s power is in you, and you must wield it.”

*****

As it turned out, killing people wasn’t a big part of the job. Mostly, Y/N turned up for the important ones - big names, celebrities, serial killers. It was to ensure the job was done correctly, but she still didn’t think that she was actually needed. All the talk of the power and destiny flowing through her; she didn’t feel any different.

There was still time to get her favorite cappuccino from Nostras, and she still enjoyed seeing the various wonders around the world. There was always something new to see.

And then, she had her first run in with demons. Crowley, to be exact. He’d summoned her, and the tugging sensation she’d felt when she’d disappeared from the middle of a department store, and appeared in hell, was exceptionally disconcerting.

“What the hell?” were the first words out of her mouth as she looked around the decrepit building. On every side of her were demons, and in front, a smug looking man in a black suit sat, watching her closely. “Who the fuck are you?”

“She’s spunky,” the man commented, unfolding his legs and standing up to walk towards her. He wasn’t very tall, but he gave off an air of authority that… well, it made Y/N want to punch him in the face, to be frank. “You’ve got this?” He directed his question to a minion holding a phone up, obviously videoing the exchange. “Sorry, I just had to get this on video. The new Death, submitting to the King Of Hell.”

Y/N blinked, unsure of the crap she was hearing. “I’m sorry, what?” There was a snigger from somewhere behind her, and a flash of irritation crossed the man’s expression. “Who are you?”

“Crowley,” he snapped. “King Of Hell. Haven’t you heard of me?” Her face was blank, and he seemed to lose his patience, turning his ire on the cameraman.  **“Stop filming me, moron!”**

The minion’s eyes went wide and he dropped the phone, sliding it back into his pocket.

“Look, this was fun and all, but I have… shit to do,” Y/N said, giving him a sarcastic little smile and raising her hand, intent on popping right back to her shopping. She’d purposefully avoided any souls today, so she could enjoy a little downtime. It was depressing, dealing with dead people all the time.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Crowley smirked, gesturing to her hand, and she looked down, seeing the thin thread of gold connecting her wrist to his. “I’ve got you cornered.”

“What the fuck is this?” Y/N snarled, tugging at the thread. “You can’t just keep me here. I’m not gonna be a lapdog. You’re not Lucifer.”

“And therein lies the problem.” The smirk didn’t leave his face, and Y/N felt her temper rising. The thread around her wrist was like a dampening field to her power, which she was still testing and she had no idea how to break it. “I’m not Lucifer. But, I have him in my control, just like you.”

Y/N had no interest in helping this petty demon, whether he called himself King or not. Lucifer was of no concern to her - he had been galavanting around being a complete idiot. Oh, she hadn’t missed him posing as the President at all, but she wanted to stay away from that whole mess. Last she’d heard, the Winchesters had dealt with that.

“He’s created a nephilim,” Crowley continued. “It needs to be contained.”

She blinked at that, specifically at the use of the word “contained”. Nephilim were dangerous creatures, she knew that - there wasn’t a supernatural entity out there that didn’t. And containing it was not a much better option than letting it exist. An abomination of nature should be destroyed. “Contained?”

God, his smirk was irritating. She wanted to wipe it off of his face.

“Contained. Trained. For a better purpose.”

“For your purpose,” she surmised, and his smirk only grew. Another fruitless tug on the thread made him chuckle, and he flicked his hand at the gathered demons.

“Leave us.” They filed out, one by one, and Y/N watched them go, sensing the disquiet atmosphere. Crowley was not well liked among his peers, so it would seem. She filed that information away for later use. The King walked around her, almost like he was sizing her up, and Y/N gritted her teeth, wanting to lash out at him. “You are a pretty thing for Death,” he muttered, reaching out to trail one hand down her arm. There was an unrestrained flinch on her part, and she bared her teeth, the violent urge in her stomach growing with each passing second. “We could build a mutual… partnership.”

“Go to hell,” she spat, shuddering at the thought. Even if he wasn’t a demon, he wasn’t her type in the slightest.

Crowley laughed, shaking his head. “Already there. And now, you’re here too. Maybe I should give you some time to cool down a little, think over my proposal?”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” The anger swelled in her chest, joining the need for violence, an instinct she’d buried over the decades. Who was this demon, to think he could control Death like a pawn? “Get fucked.”

“Oh, I do like you,” he murmured, that irritating smirk back on his face. “Come.” He made a gesture with his hands, and Y/N made a noise of frustration as his command worked on her limbs like she were a puppet on strings. “I’ll show you to your room.”


	2. Part Two

Days passed, and Y/N was left alone. Demons brought her food and water, neither of which she needed, and after she’d killed three of them, they stopped coming. Crowley didn’t materialize either, apparently thinking that once she’d stewed for a while, she’d come around to his way of thinking.

This was why she hadn’t wanted to be part of this. Death was supposed to be all-powerful, but with the right spell, she was nothing but a slave. Now she knew why her father had accepted the bindings of Heaven, retreating from this world until Lucifer forced him to rise again.

She hated it.

After days of screaming, fighting and literally beating at the walls, she resigned herself to sitting on the floor, cross legged, trying to push her power beyond the limits of the gold thread that remained stubbornly around her wrist. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, possibly for weeks - it was easy to get lost in herself when she wished it.

When the door opened, it was like an elastic band snapping her back into her body, and she opened her eyes to see a tall man stood in the doorway, a shotgun in his hands and confusion on his face. 

“You okay?” he asked, and Y/N tilted her head to the side. Obviously, he didn’t know who she was. “My name is -”

A demon appeared from nowhere, slamming into him and they tussled as Y/N watched calmly, a neutral expression on her face. When the human gained the upper hand, and shot the demon, killing the host, she stretched her palm out, and the demon’s golden light flashed through its skull, rendering it as dead as the body it inhabited.

She was pleased with that - the meditation had allowed her a small amount of control. The man stood straight, blinking at the body, unsure of what had happened.

“My name is Y/N,” she said, getting to her feet.

“Oh.” He stopped. “Ohhhh. You’re, er, you’re who we’re here for.”

A rescue. Awesome. She’d be more relieved if it wasn’t a human, but she’d take what she could get. “Who’s we?” she asked.

“Me and my brother,” he announced, looking away down the corridor. Y/N narrowed her eyes, taking in his features, the way he moved - he was clearly a hunter. And brothers… “I’m Dean,” he offered, smiling at her, and her heart thudded.

This was the man that had killed her father. Dean Winchester. And he’d come here to fucking rescue her.

“You know who I am?” She was careful with her words as she spoke, feeling the rage trembling in her fingertips. Dean frowned, before nodding. “Then you know… you know that you killed my father.”

He had the decency to look sheepish at least; his cheeks reddened, and Y/N tried to ignore how goddamn attractive he was. “About that…” he started, fiddling with the gun in his hands. “It wasn’t, like, planned or anything, and I -”

“Dean!” The barked call made him stop and turn, just as a taller man with much longer hair appeared. A simple deduction told Y/N that this was Sam Winchester, and she wondered how such handsome men ended up being such brutes. “We need to leave.”

“I can’t,” Y/N said tersely, holding up her wrist, showing them the thread. It shone and pulsed, and she could feel Crowley drawing near.

Sam grinned, pushing past his brother. “We have something for that,” he said, pulling a piece of rock from his pocket. Y/N recognized it instantly, a smile bursting onto her lips as he sliced easily through the spell, rendering it inert and her powers free. He turned to Dean, motioning towards the door. “Out, now.”

“No need for the rescue, boys,” Y/N said, triumphantly clapping her hands together. All at once, the dungeon disappeared, and all three landed in a grassy field, both Winchesters dropping to the floor like stones at the unexpected use of power. “That’s better,” she grinned, stretching her arms out. “How long did that asshole have me?”

Dean looked as Sam as he got up, offering his brother a hand, which was received gratefully. “About a month. One of your reapers dropped in unexpectedly. Said Crowley had you bound.”

Her mouth set into a grim line. “I need to make sure that can’t happen again,” she muttered, scrubbing a hand over her face. The stench of hell still clung to her, and she wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a coffee. “Well, thanks for the help, but I’ve outplayed this scene.”

“Wait!” Sam called, halting her departure. “Where exactly are we?”

“I left my car back there,” Dean grunted, and Y/N felt a flare of anger towards him. He was the man who had killed her father - was she supposed to let him walk because he’d helped her? With a quick gesture of her hand, a loud thud sounded and the black monstrosity he called a car landed heavily on the grass next to them. He blinked at it, shocked at the move, before looking at her. “Er, thanks?”

“You’re welcome. Be happy I’m not killing you for what you did to my father.” Her words came out as a growl, and Dean backed away, holding his hands up. “I’ll let you live, simply because it’s not your time to die.” She glanced at Sam. “Try and stay out of trouble? I’d hate to send my reapers after you.”

It felt almost natural, slipping into her role. Maybe it was the days she’d spent meditating, flexing the power inside her, but she felt more like she supposed she was meant to than ever before. She could literally feel her place in the universe.

“Y/N…” Sam started, and she rolled her eyes, looking at him with exasperation. “Sorry, I just… the reapers were worried about you. There was a mention that you’re… you’re not…”

“That I’m not what?”

Dean chuckled. “They were worried because you’re half human,” he finished. “Something about you not fitting in as the new Death. I wondered what would happen after Billie -”

“Don’t get me started on your ridiculous penchant for killing angels,” Y/N warned. “I may not have been Billie’s biggest fan, but she was right about you two.” She paused, watching the unnerved reaction on their faces. “Trouble and death dog your footsteps. I’m not the harbinger here; you are.” 

Sam inhaled, drawing his shoulders up and it made him seem a little taller. “Maybe. But you leave, and Crowley just yanks your ass back down to Hell. We have a place -”

“You think you can help me?”

“We just did, lady,” Dean snapped, and Y/N narrowed her eyes, scowling at him brutally. “We’re trying to do you a favor.”

“Do you think that will make me feel better? Alleviate your guilt a little?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “You murdered my father.” He remained silent as she stared at him. “And why the hell did the reapers come to you? They know who you are. They could have come for me themselves -”

“They tried,” Sam interjected, his tone pleading. “Crowley set his hounds on them. He was determined to have control of you, to use you for god knows what.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “The nephilim. Lucifer’s child. He wants me to help him.”

“Kelly Kline is M.I.A,” Dean said, receiving a blank look at the name. “The woman he knocked up. We don’t know where she is. She disappeared with a friend of ours; an angel, Castiel. We’ve been looking for them but -”

“Coming up empty handed,” Sam finished, a sigh leaving him. “If we could find them…”

“Are you after the same thing Crowley is?” Y/N asked. “He wants to contain the child, probably control it for his own means, and I’m not interested in allowing an abomination like that to live. It’s too much power…” She trailed off, remembering the stories her father had told her of another nephilim, born long before her time, the chaos it brought to those around it until heaven finally destroyed it. “I’m not one for killing children, but this thing… it won’t be a child. It’s a creation of an archangel - there’s no taming fire like that.”

Sam glanced at his brother, a serious expression on his face, and Dean’s shoulders dropped. “We don’t want to kill anyone. But we agree with that. It’s too dangerous. It’s got Castiel under some kind of mind control, convincing him it has to be born. We don’t know any way to get to Kelly that doesn’t kill us first.”

Y/N sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, digging her teeth in - an awful habit her mother had chided her for as a child. “I can find her.” She inhaled deeply, letting her arms fall loosely to her sides. “I don’t want to get involved, I’m supposed to be neutral. But if you can help me stop Crowley from leashing me, then I’ll help you destroy the nephilim.”

The smile that grew on Sam’s face made her heart swell with affection. It wasn’t hard to see the true honor in him, the goodness of his soul. Despite everything, and Y/N knew  _ everything _ about him - there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Sam was a true and good person.

Dean, on the other hand…

There was a darkness in him that Y/N could sense, a darkness that echoed her own, and she was uncomfortable with it. She could see him replaying the moment of her father’s demise over and over in his head, and sense the conflict in him between guilt for it, and relief that his brother had survived. Above all else, this man treasured his brother, and for a moment, Y/N was jealous of that connection.

It reminded her of how very alone she’d been all her life.

“Deal?” she asked, feeling a small amount of trepidation at making the bargain with them. Sam nodded enthusiastically, Dean less so, and all three turned to the black car sitting in the grass. As she climbed into the back seat, Y/N tried to ignore the things Billie had told her.

She could only hope that being Death would save her from the fate that befell all those who aligned with the Winchesters…

*****

The drive was uncomfortable to say the least. For six hours, Y/N sat in the backseat, her legs crossed and bare feet resting on the leather upholstery. When Dean noticed her in the rearview mirror, he pulled a funny face, and elbowed Sam to get his attention.

“What’s she doing?” he muttered, and Y/N cracked one eye open, seeing him watching her in the mirror.

“Why don’t you ask her, Dean?” Sam groused, keeping his focus on his phone, searching news articles. 

“I’m trying to focus,” Y/N said, her voice level, and Dean raised an eyebrow, making her lips twitch in a smile. “It’s a big world, and you want me to find one person, it could be a while.”

He blinked, dropping his eyes back to the deserted road for a moment before looking at her again. “You can… find people? Like Professor X?”

The tinkle of laughter she gave was enough to make his cheeks go a slighter darker shade. “Not a mutant, Dean. I’m just… different. But yeah, sort of. Usually finding people is easy, but this girl is protected, either by your angel or Lucifer’s creation.”

“He’s not my angel,” Dean muttered, fixing his gaze on the road, and Y/N grinned. While she’d been sitting there, she’d realized that in the months since she’d taken up her father’s mantle, she’d missed simply being around people. Not reapers - she couldn’t seem to get rid of them. But people… they’d always been scarce in her life. Her mother had been distrustful of strangers, like anyone was in those days, and having a half-human half-Death child was a good enough reason for her to keep Y/N away from everyone in the world.

“Are you having any luck?” Sam asked, turning in his seat a little.

“Not so far,” she replied, her shoulders sagging a little. “But… I’m tired. It was a little exerting back there, and that dick had me bound for so long -”

Sam offered her a gentle smile. “Get some rest. If you need to stop for anything, food or water or -”

“I don’t need any of those things.” There was a pause, and she met Sam’s eyes gratefully. “But thank you anyway. I’ll just meditate. It usually helps.”

By the time they got to Kansas, Sam was driving, having swapped with Dean, who’d curled up in the front seat and fallen asleep. Y/N had stopped meditating at that point, instead watching Dean, memorizing his features. 

Kinda cute for a killer.

She’d met plenty of men over the years, but none had intrigued her like Dean Winchester did. It was odd, and probably in the column of very wrong how attractive he was, and she couldn’t help but want to look into his head. But she resisted, content to watch him and study him. She wouldn’t kill him for what he’d done - at the end of the day, it wouldn’t fix anything.

He twitched in the seat, his face creasing into a deep frown, and a tiny noise fell from his lips. Sam glanced over, concern on his face, and Y/N scooted forward, wondering what was wrong.

“He’s having a nightmare,” the younger Winchester said quietly. “He has them a lot, but…”

“He won’t talk about them,” she guessed, and Sam nodded. Dean twitched again, his leg kicking out, and a whispered sound leaving him. Some sort of instinct kicked in, and Y/N sat back closing her eyes, zeroing in on Dean’s energies. Soothing him was easy - she could see the things that he was dreaming, and was surprised he wasn’t screaming in his sleep. Quickly, she worked to manipulate his dreams, replacing them with images that wouldn’t disturb his rest.

Sam glanced over when his brother went still again, his expression one of bewilderment. “Huh…that ended quickly.”

“I eased his dreams,” Y/N whispered, opening her eyes to look at the sleeping hunter.

“Why?” Sam asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror. There wasn’t any judgement in his voice, just curiosity, and she looked away.

There wasn’t an answer in her mind that made sense enough to speak aloud.


	3. Part Three

She hadn’t ever quite come across a place like the Men Of Letters bunker before. It looked like a cross between a Bond villain’s lair and Superman’s Fortress Of Solitude, minus the ice. But she could sense the wardings, although there were several gaps that needed fixing. Pointing this out to Sam she was met with an expression of excitement on his behalf, and Dean rolling his eyes.

“Someone to nerd out with. Lucky you, Sam.” The words were grunted as he pushed past the both of them, heading straight for his bedroom. There were dark circles under his eyes, possibly from lack of restful sleep, and it was easy to feel the exhaustion and anxiety flowing off of him in waves.

“Don’t mind him,” Sam said, smiling at Y/N, who didn’t respond, keeping her eyes fixed on the empty corridor that Dean had disappeared down. “He’s had a bee in his bonnet for weeks now.”

“He feels guilty,” she announced, earning a look of confusion from the other Winchester. “Sorry,” she gestured to her head, “part of the deal. Sometimes I can’t help but pick things up. Your brother is… he’s projecting, a lot, and I can’t avoid it.”

Sam tilted his head to the side, nodding in agreement. “We’ve had a rough…” He paused, realizing that “couple of days” didn’t really cover it. “…life,” he finished, barking a little laugh under his breath.

Y/N hummed at that, looking back to the corridor. “You’ve both seen a lot. Done a lot. I know most of it. The name Winchester comes with a warning label.” She raised an eyebrow, looking back to Sam. “I’ve not even been doing this very long, but wherever I look, there’s a Winchester stamping his name on a situation.”

He frowned. “I didn’t think we were that bad,” he muttered, sorting through the books in his duffle bag. “I know we seem to find trouble like magnets, but -”

“That’s the _least_ of it.” There was a smile on her face as she pulled out a chair and sat down at the library table, watching him go through the various old volumes. “But my father was always fond of you. He especially liked when you brought him food.”

Sam’s hands stopped, and he looked up, contemplating her for a moment. “You were… close with your dad?”

Her shoulders rose and fell in a brief shrug. “I don’t know how you can define “close”. He was there a lot when I was younger, when he was bound from doing anything but his job. Heaven kept him pinned for a millennia. When things started to unravel, he wasn’t there so much. But the time I was of age, I only saw him every once in awhile.” There was pity on Sam’s face, but Y/N didn’t want it - she didn’t feel pity for herself, and didn’t require it from anyone else. “I don’t feel bad about it,” she explained. “I’m over a hundred and fifty years old; I learned to live my life. And it’s been… good.”

His eyes went wide at that. “You’re… a hundred and fifty?” She nodded, leaning back in the chair. “Wow. I wouldn’t have put you at over twenty five.”

Y/N laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

A smile spread over his face briefly, before disappearing, and Y/N could sense where his next topic was conversation was going to go. He had to stick up for his brother, had to defend his decision, and she was willing to hear him out. For now.

“Dean didn’t… he didn’t set out to kill Death. He was fully intending on going through with whatever plan your father had to seal him away, stop the Mark. Stop the Darkness.” He sighed, dropping heavily into the thick wooden chair behind him. “If anything, it was my fault. I showed up and he was given the choice that he had to kill me to save the world. And ultimately… we’ve never been able to do that. Maybe we’ve stopped the apocalypse before, but if it comes down to it, we always find a way to put each other first.”

“That doesn’t make you bad people,” Y/N replied, keeping her eyes on him, watching the guilt and pain as it etched itself into the lines of his face. She noticed that his eyes were not all one color - flecks of green, brown and gold danced across his irises in a spectacular pattern. “Sam, forgive me for being forward, but you seem to take a lot of the blame onto yourself.”

“I would have found a way to get to him. He was given an ultimatum he wouldn’t follow through on, and he took another way. If we’d had more time -”

“Time is irrelevant. What’s done is done.” She shrugged, looking away from him. It still hurt to think that she never got to say goodbye to her father, but then, she should have known that life wasn’t always that kind and providing.

Sam frowned. “I thought you were angry.”

“I had hours in the car to think that over,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t expecting the gallant rescue, especially not from you two, so it was a bit of a shock. I never thought I’d have to come face to face with either of you, but now I have, and now I _see_ the men you really are… I don’t have any right to hold onto that anger.” A breath left her lungs, sounding louder than it really was in the quiet library. “I might be ageless, but life is too short to hold on to hate.”

He looked up, giving her a gentle smile. “I couldn’t agree more.”

*****

Dean didn’t emerge from his room for the rest of the day, leaving Y/N and Sam plenty of space and time to deal with the cracks she’d picked out in their warding. The entire building was an astounding feat of architecture, technology and magic, and Y/N was amazed by all of it, showing things to Sam that he hadn’t even known about. By the time they had gotten around to actually fixing the warding, Sam had a notebook, and was jotting down all the information she could give him.

When they were done, the conversation moved to the kitchen, where Sam started preparing a simple evening meal, despite the fact that his brother hadn’t shown his face, and he had no way of knowing whether he would eat or not.

“So, you don’t eat food?” he asked, and Y/N smiled at the question.

“I can eat. I like food. I just don’t require it.” She paused, practically hearing his thought on that. “Just like Castiel.”

“But you’re not an angel.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not built like they are. Similar - we’re made of the same stuff I guess. To be honest, all I know is that my dad was here before anything else was, and most likely, I’ll be here when everything else isn’t. Only one thing can kill me and… I don’t know where it is.”

Sam nodded, placing an empty plate in front of her. “The scythe.”

“Bingo,” Y/N replied, looking down as he placed another plate opposite hers and one next to it. “You’re cooking for Dean too?”

“He’ll eat. It’s burgers. He loves them.” He chuckled. “Although, his cooking is better, I promise you that.” Turning away, he returned to the stove, and Y/N watched as he resumed cooking the meat patties, flipping them to evenly crisp each side. “He’ll smell these in about five minutes and come out, just you watch.”

As it turned out, Sam wasn’t lying. Within a few moments of the burgers making it onto the buns, footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Dean appeared, hair mussed from sleep and eyes bleary. He looked a little better than he had before though, and Y/N eyed him as he sat down across the table from her.

“Told ya,” Sam quipped, dropping a burger onto the plate in front of Dean.

“Told her what?” Dean asked, frowning.

Y/N giggled a little, and Sam placed a burger on her plate. “Thank you, Sam. I must admit, burgers are probably my favorite food.” She picked up the bun and patty combination, biting into it and making a noise of pleasure as both brothers watched her. Dean blinked, before shrugging and tucking into his own food, as Sam took his seat. All three of them ate in silence for a few minutes, before Dean swallowed a mouthful and looked over at Sam.

“How’s it coming on locating the devil baby?”

“Nothing so far. We spent the afternoon checking over the wardings on this place. It’s amazing, some of the mechanics of it; Y/N and I found some -” Dean’s expression made Sam trail off and Y/N ducked her head, trying not to smile. It was obvious that the elder brother was intelligent, but nowhere near as enthusiastic for the application of said intelligence as his younger brother was.

“I’m still searching,” she offered, placing her burger down on the place.

Dean raised an eyebrow, another mouthful of burger making his cheeks bulge out like an adorable and deadly hamster. “Right now?” he asked, through the food, which should have been disgusting but Y/N found it endearing. She nodded, and he stared, before remembering he was chewing. “Wow. I guess girls are better at multitasking.”

Sam snorted at that, shaking his head at his brother’s words, as Dean lifted his shoulders in an expression of “what?”, while Y/N tried not to laugh. They ate the rest of their meal in silence, and when they were done, Sam cleared away the plates, before announcing that he was going to bed.

“You can take any room,” he offered, and Y/N smiled gratefully.

“I don’t sleep an awful lot, but thanks. I’ll probably skim some of your books and see what I can do to speed up finding this Kelly person.” She stood up, bidding Sam goodnight and leaving the kitchen, not paying Dean any mind as he grabbed a beer and followed her. With several large books in archaic languages that barely anyone knew how to read anymore, Y/N settled down into one of the chairs, flicking through the first book with a look of concentration on her face.

Dean sat opposite, watching her carefully, his fingers playing with the droplets of condensation on the neck of his beer bottle. “Sam’s got an idea of how to shield you from any further Crowley antics,” he said, suddenly, and Y/N hummed in acknowledgement, knowing that he was just breaking the silence because it made him uncomfortable. “But he says that while you’re in here, you’re warded or something?”

“Yeah.”

He lapsed into silence again, and she could hear his foot tapping underneath the table. Moments ticked by, and she kept reading, and Dean kept fidgeting, until she sighed heavily and looked up, focusing her attention on him.

“Dean, is there something bothering you?” she asked, and he shifted in his seat, pushing the bottle around the table, leaving little trails of water wherever it went.

“I wanted to… I don’t know, apologize? But I realise how stupid that sounds. I ki -”

She held up a hand, cutting him off. “I know. And I was angry. But there are bigger problems to worry about right now.” The confusion on Dean’s face was clear, and he opened and shut his mouth a few times, unsure what to say. Y/N shut the book, knowing she wouldn’t get any more reading done while he was there. “You’re feeling guilty. I get it. But I’ve seen what’s haunting you, Dean, and it’s far worse than taking out a supernatural being to save your brother.”

“It wasn’t like that…” he started, before shaking his head. “You already talked to Sam.”

“I gotta say, you two have the most amazing inferiority superiority complexes I’ve ever seen,” she quipped, keeping her tone light. “It’s pretty incredible how far you’ve come, how you haven’t gone completely mad.”

He grimaced. “It’s been a close call once or twice,” he muttered, lifting his beer to sip from it gingerly. “I guess, I wanted to clear the air. I know I’m a dick, but you’re helping us and you don’t have to, and I’m gonna try not to be a douche from now on, okay?” One delicate eyebrow arched in his direction, and he shifted his eyes away, looking out of his comfort zone. “Plus, you seem nice. I wasn’t… I didn’t know what to expect from Death’s daughter.”

Her smile was more than a little intoxicating, and Dean offered her a gentle grin in response. “You’re a complex creature, Dean Winchester,” she whispered, pushing the book away. “And you need to realize all the good you’ve done for this world. It far outweighs the bad. Only a few months ago, you were ready to sacrifice yourself to stop Amara.” A shrug was her only response, and Y/N sighed, preparing to say something else when the main bunker door opened. Dean frowned, standing up and quickly moving to the doorway.

“Oh,” he said, although Y/N couldn’t see who he was talking to you. “Wasn’t expecting you back so soon. You said you were…”

“Just thought I’d check in by something other than text,” came a soft, feminine voice, and Y/N held her breath, unsure of who it could possibly be. An older, blonde woman walked into view, her expression changing into confusion as she saw the other woman standing there. “Am I interrupting something?”

Dean blinked, before shaking his head vigorously. “No! No, not like that. She’s, er, this is Y/N.” He scrubbed at the back of his head with his hand. “She’s… well, she’s Death.” Glancing over, he grinned tightly. “Y/N, this is our mom, Mary.”

“Oh,” Y/N exhaled, remembering the specifics of that particular tale. It had caused a ripple, bringing Mary back, but nothing the reapers couldn’t clear up. “Hi.”

“You’re Death?” Mary asked, hesitantly taking the hand she was offered, shaking it gingerly. “As in -”

“Second generation,” she explained, smiling. “Don’t worry though, I’m here to help. Your boys rescued me and I offered to help with the nephilim situation.” Confusion only escalated on Mary’s expression, and she looked at Dean.

He chuckled nervously, gesturing to the library table. “Er, there’s probably some stuff we should catch you up on…”


	4. Part Four

Mary Winchester did not trust the daughter of Death, which was just as well, because Y/N did not trust her either. There was something unnerving about the other woman, and lumping that in with the fact that she couldn’t see anything in her head?

It was all throwing up warning signs.

She didn’t stay long at the bunker. Two days, during most of which Y/N was studying and searching, and they avoided each other. Dean had clearly been elated to have his mother around, while Sam seemed undecided on the whole thing. She didn’t want to pry, but when Mary finally left, Y/N sighed in relief, even when Dean decided that sulking was the best way to try and convince her to stay.

“I just don’t get why she keeps running off,” he groused, as Sam rolled his eyes for the thousandth time. Anyone could see he had the patience of a saint where it came to his brother, but even he had his limits. “It’s like -”

“She’s a grown woman and can do what she likes?” Sam offered, standing up from the table. “Dean, Mom’s been hunting since before we were born. She can take care of herself.”

“Didn’t she seem off to you?” Dean asked. “She seemed off to me. What about you?” He turned his enquiry on Y/N, who blinked like a deer in headlights.

“Can’t say I know her well enough to judge,” Y/N replied, shrugging. “Besides, we didn’t exactly start sharing over tea, Dean.” She kept her reservations to herself; there was no need to raise suspicions, and Dean would most likely get defensive, even if agreed with.

Sam dropped a book in front of her at that moment, disrupting the conversation. “I found it.” Y/N stopped, looking down at the text, eyes widening as she read through it. “This is what we’ve been looking for. Something specific enough to keep Crowley’s summoning from working, but not affecting your natural need to be called to a certain place.”

It had been a long few days looking for the right ritual, and Y/N was about ready to resign herself to being stuck in the bunker forever. But in front of her, lay the key to her freedom without the self-titled King breathing down her neck. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. And it’s a really simple spell too. We can do it tonight, if you like?” His smile was soft, and Y/N was certain there were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

Dean stood up abruptly, shattering the moment, and both of them turned their attention to him. “Do you need me for anything?” he asked, the words tightened by the gritted nature of his teeth. His eyes were blazing, and he looked immensely pissed off, which Y/N immediately attributed to his mom’s departure.

“No, we can handle it,” Sam responded, looking down at the book, apparently unaware of his brother’s mood. Y/N didn’t mention it, but her gaze followed the retreat of Dean’s back as he left the room. “Should only take a couple of hours to get the ingredients together, Y/N. Then we can get you back to your job,” he locked his eyes on hers, his smile friendly, “once we’ve found Kelly, of course.”

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Of course. A deal is a deal, and this means a lot, Sam.” She paused, her eyes drifting back in the direction Dean had gone. “Do you think he’s alright?”

Sam glanced over his shoulder, shrugging. “He’s fine. Just got his panties in a bunch over mom.” Her teeth worried at her bottom lip, torn between concern for Dean (the grump had grown on her) and worry about Mary Winchester. Being unable to read someone was rare, and even rarer when it seemed like the person concerned was being shielded by something else.

The slam of the book made her concentration break, and she jumped, seeing Sam smiling at her again.

“Shall we get to work?”

*****

It didn’t feel any different as Sam threw the last ingredient into the bowl, setting it aflame. He looked at her expectantly, and Y/N stared back, unsure how she was supposed to react. “Anything?” he asked, and she shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to test it.”

With a nod, she closed her eyes, disappearing from the chair she was sat in. When she opened her eyes, she was outside the bunker, in the fresh night air, and she waited, feeling nothing. Maybe Crowley had ceased his attempts, or maybe the spell had worked - there was no way of knowing for certain.

Reappearing back in the bunker made Sam jump, and she offered him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I couldn’t feel anything. But he might not be trying to summon me right now.”

“Well, we could go out for a bit. Maybe get some food?”

“Did someone say food?” Dean asked, walking into the room with his jacket on. “I was about to head out for something greasy to clog up my arteries.”

Sam grinned. “There you go. Go with Dean, and if anything happens, he’ll be able to tell me. We’ve still got the fragment of fossilized lightning to cut the thread, and we know where Crowley is.”

Y/N’s mouth set into a thin line - it was a risk, but one she knew she had to take. Dean didn’t look too pleased about being left alone with her, but he’d have to get over it. Slowly, she nodded, and Sam’s smile widened.

“You’re not coming?” Dean spoke slowly, almost as if the thought of being alone with her was unbearable, and she tried to swallow the lump that formed in her throat at that. Why she was getting so uptight about it, she didn’t know, but for some reason, the thought of Dean not liking her rubbed her the wrong way.

It was stupid, considering he’d killed her father.

“No, I’ve got some things to take care of here. Still looking for Kelly.”

“Still looking,” Y/N supplied, but she sounded a little dejected, a fact that Sam picked up on.

“You’ve been cooped up in here for days. Go, stretch your legs, eat some disgusting diner food - I’m sure the spell worked.”

A few moments later, she was sat in the front seat of Dean’s beloved car, her hands folded neatly in her lap as Dean started the engine and pulled away from his home. She didn’t speak, and neither did he, until they arrived at the small diner Dean had decided would be their venue for the evening.

“I come here a lot,” he muttered. “They make good pie.”

“Do they do cherry?” she enquired, and Dean managed a small smile, nodding. Y/N brightened a little, following him from the car into the diner, where they selected a small booth away from the other patrons. “I’m still not feeling anything.”

“That’s good, right?” Dean asked, picking up the menu. She nodded, inspecting her own menu, and the waitress arrived, taking their orders. “I’ll take the triple bacon burger, everything on it, and a side of pickle chips please.”

And your strongest coffee, my dear, if that isn’t too much trouble.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply as memories washed over her. It had been her favorite thing with her dad, just catching up over some awful food. He loved his greasy treats, and she’d picked up on that over the years, becoming just as enamored with backwater restaurants as he had.

“You okay?”

Dean’s voice snapped her free, and she wiped at her eyes. “I’m good. Just… my dad used to bring me to places like this. A long time ago.”

His face went a little pale and he nodded. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she whispered. “It was a long time ago. Truth is, I hadn’t seen my dad in twenty years before you…” The words stuck in her throat and she cleared it, shaking her head. “He went underground when he heard about the grand plans. The apocalypse. He never liked associating with the others, and he felt it prudent to be out of the way. I think, maybe he thought that if he hid well enough, Lucifer wouldn’t find him.”

Dean gave her a sympathetic smile. “Still, I’m sorry.”

“You’re a strange man, Dean Winchester.”

“What makes you say that?”

“We’re sitting in a diner, ordering food. I’m Death and you’re the man who killed Death. Almost on a date.”

He chuckled, shrugging. “I’ve had stranger experiences. Is this a date?” What was she supposed to say to that? Before she could open her mouth to answer, he was talking again. “I mean, I thought you and Sam had this whole… vibe thing going on. You seemed to be getting along well.”

Y/N blinked. Sure, Sam was an intriguing person, intelligent, wonderful to talk to, but he was… there wasn’t anything about him that attracted her like that. “No, Sam is just a friend. He’s nice enough but… not my type.”

Dean’s eyes changed shade as he watched her. “What’s your type?” he asked, his voice a little lower than it had been.

“I like them a little darker,” she replied, just as the waitress arrived with their food. He didn’t reply, tucking into his burger, and for a few moments, they were both silent. “So, tell me something I don’t know about you, Dean.”

He laughed at that, and the conversation began to flow between them. They chatted about humorous childhood adventures - the time Sam had broken his arm and Dean had rode him to the ER on his bike. Y/N shared a story about the first time she’d accidentally killed a baby goat at a petting zoo, and how her mother had been aghast at the situation. From there, they moved onto life stories - partners, jobs, the way she tried to live a normal life, and how he’d found that didn’t work for him.

“I loved Lisa,” he said, picking at the leftover salad on his plate. “And Ben, too, but… you can’t be on the outskirts of this life. You’re in it or you’re not, and that’s the way it has to be. Huntin’ is in my blood. I can’t change that. Much like you can’t change who you are.”

“I tried,” she argued. “For years I tried to live like normal. But it’s hard to find someone who understands just what I am, as well as who I am. And the excuses for why I don’t age get a little… old.” Dean chuckled at the pun, and Y/N picked up a fry, popping it into her mouth. “I could give it up, if I wanted. There’s a way for me to take that part of me away. My father… he talked about it once, long after my mother died. Said he’d considered it, but there was no one else to take the power, no one else to take the responsibility that he could trust. I think a part of him always regretted it.”

Dean frowned. “You could do that? Be a regular human?”

She nodded. “If there was the right inclination. I’ve never had it. I just… continued. It’s odd, I know, but it’s hard to connect with people when your touch could literally kill them.”

He blinked, reeling back a little. “You mean, you’re a vi-”

“No!” she gasped, laughing at his assumption. “Just because my touch can kill, doesn’t mean it always does. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Oh,” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Cause, if that was the case, I’d have offered up my services. I’m sure it’d be worth dying for.” Y/N blushed, squirming a little in her chair. “Good thing you aren’t in need of assistance, huh?”

The waitress appeared, handing them the check, and Dean dumped a fistful of dollars onto it, looking out the window.

“We should probably get going. Sam’ll wonder where we are.”

“Probably,” Y/N replied, standing from the booth. As she walked towards the door, she felt an odd sensation, and she looked up, frowning. Dean noticed the move, and took her forearm in his large fingers, concern filling his eyes.

“Everything okay?” She turned, slowly, and Dean’s worry only grew. “Y/N? Is it Crowley?”

“No,” she whispered, her lips chapped and dry as she stared at him. “I can sense the child.”

A deafening silence followed her words, interrupted seconds later by Dean’s phone loudly ringing in his pocket. He scrambled for it, frowning at the screen before answering. Y/N watched, able to hear the panicked voice on the other end. “Wait, Sam, slow down -” he paused, eyes going wide. “We’re on our way.”

“What is it?” Y/N asked, frowning.

“Hunters. Missing, dead. Sam just got a call about a friend of ours,” he replied, fishing for his car keys in his pocket.

“What about Lucifer’s child?” she called, as Dean pushed past her and headed for the Impala. He looked back, his expression hopeless, and Y/N’s face hardened, knowing he would have to choose his brethren. “Go,” she ordered. “Leave the nephilim to me.”

“Y/N -”

“No. You need to deal with this. We have time. And I am more than capable of dealing with this situation.” She gave him a firm nod, before disappearing into thin air, leaving Dean stood with his keys in hand, and a desperate look on his face. He hoped more than anything she was capable, because somehow, the thought of never seeing her again pained him.


	5. Part Five

The small cabin looked innocuous enough, and Y/N stood in the woodland a little way away, casting her eyes across the lake, sensing the life inside. She knew now, that death was around the Winchesters, and this would go very badly for them if she did not intervene. Allowing the child to live was signalling the end of the world, but killing it… she’d never taken a child to the other side before.

There had to be another way.

A thin sliver of light shone out from beyond the house, and as Y/N drew closer, she could feel the power coming from it. Approaching it slowly, she reached out one hand, ghosting over the light, sensing the altered plane on the other side. It was barren, void of most life, burnt out and she knew; this world should not exist.

Lucifer was free. He was free and roaming, and Y/N needed to deal with this before anything else. She knew she had the power - using it was the problem. She’d never tested herself to the limit before, but she knew from her father that she could lock Lucifer away and destroy his bastard offspring.

The problem was just that - destroying a life that had done nothing wrong.

At that moment of contemplation, the door to the cabin opened, and the angel, Castiel, walked out, frowning at both her presence and the line of light splitting the universes in two. “Who are you?” he asked, his angel blade dropping into his hand.

“I’d put that away if I were you,” Y/N replied, coolly. His head was a mess, and his thoughts unrestrained. Something had twisted him up, and she had an idea as to what had done it. The child was already powerful, and it hadn’t even been born yet.

“I won’t let you harm them,” Castiel threatened, raising the blade and speaking through gritted teeth.

“I’m not going to.” She eyed him, standing her ground. “But the child cannot be born with power, Castiel. You know this - deep down, you know the visions you have seen are false. It will destroy and bend to its father’s will.”

He shook his head. “No. I will raise him, I will show him -”

“There won’t be a child to raise!” Y/N exclaimed. “The nephilim of an archangel would not be a child, Castiel! Power like that could not be contained in an infant! Did you think you’d nurse him, teach him? He already knows our world, already tries to control it!”

The angel was more stubborn than she gave him credit for, and instead of considering her words, he charged, blade held high. An angel blade wouldn’t kill her, but it would still hurt, so she moved herself clear of his attack. Appearing behind him, she caught his coat just as he went towards the thin line of light, before he could be dragged through, and threw him to the ground. He made a noise as he hit the floor, and Y/N took the opportunity to kick his blade away, scowling at him.

“You would do well to stay down,” she warned.

Naturally, he didn’t listen, struggling to get up, even as she placed a foot on his chest, pinning him to the floor. He might be a former soldier of God, but she was Death, and Death trumped wings. “Don’t hurt them! Please!” He pleaded, anger turning to desperation.

“I will not.” Her reply was smooth, and she bent, placing two fingers to his temple, rendering him powerless and unconscious. “I wonder how many times you’ve done that to others,” she mused, standing straight and watching for a second, before turning away towards the house.

Kelly Kline was reading when Y/N entered the bedroom silently, and immediately dropped her book, calling out for Castiel. With a shake of her head, Death moved to sit on the mattress, sighing heavily as the pregnant woman watched her with a wary eye. 

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked, covering her swollen belly with her hands. Y/N closed her eyes, sensing the child inside, feeling his power and how much chaos he was going to create. This woman, this poor human vessel, was simply an incubator, and would die when he was done with her. 

With a sigh, Y/N reached out, covering Kelly’s hand with one of her own. “No. I’m not going to kill you. Or your child.”

“Who are you?” Kelly whispered, looking down at the stranger’s fingers covering hers.

“I am Death.”

The woman’s eyes went wide, and Y/N had to hold back a smile. The child within her kicked, and Y/N frowned, feeling him reach out to test her, and his fear was palpable. He knew who she was, and what she was capable of. No doubt, he would attempt to stop her.

“You will die, if you give birth to this child,” Y/N said, slowly, but Kelly didn’t seem phased. Likely, she already knew, but Y/N had to be sure. “He is not a good soul, Kelly. He is the literal spawn of Satan, and he will have no capability for goodness.”

Kelly shook her head. “No, he will, he will, I promise, I just -”

“You may think that the son of an angel would be good, would be pure, but this child… he will not be a child. A baby couldn’t contain the power of an archangel. He will be fully grown in a matter of moments, strong and powerful, and vengeful. Lucifer’s grace was twisted and contaminated, and your son is the same.”

There were tears in Kelly’s eyes as Y/N spoke, but she was still clinging to her desperate hope, despite the truth that Y/N was telling her. “He can be good,” she whispered pitifully.

“No, he won’t. But… he can be human.” The child kicked underneath their hands, and the act obviously pained the woman carrying him. He didn’t want to lose his grace, didn’t want to lose that part of who he was, but Y/N had to do this, or destroy them both. “I can take his grace. I can separate it from the innocent baby you created, and he will be yours alone. He won’t know of his previous form, his previous potential, and you will live. To raise  _ your _ son.”

“But… he says he has to have his power, that he can make the world a better place -”

“He’s lying to you,” Y/N reaffirmed. “He’s telling you these things because you carry him. For the time being, he needs you, and he will tell you pretty lies to get what he wants, just like his father.” Kelly’s eyes were brimming over, tears slipping down her cheeks as a choked sob left her throat, and Y/N sucked in a breath, focusing on what she needed to do. “I don’t need your permission.”

“He’s scared,” the pregnant woman murmured, cradling her belly.

“That’s because he knows who I am. That I am stronger than his father, than God… I carry the power of my own father.” 

“W-will it hurt?”

Y/N smiled softly, leaning in to her. “Close your eyes.” Her eyes fluttered shut, and Y/N placed her hands either side of Kelly’s protruding bump, feeling the child raging, lashing out with his power, but it was like butterfly wings on a flower petal. He could not alter Death, he could not affect her.

Bright light blossomed underneath Y/N’s fingers, surrounding both women and the bed, slowly spreading outwards through the entire room. Y/N focused, putting everything into separating the angelic entity from the shell of the child, leaving behind an innocent soul, unaware of his original form. The grace was overwhelming, but Y/N kept working, kept pushing, until it was a formless bubble, locked in her hold.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she held him close, like she would any soul crossing over, pulling him away from the now unconscious woman, who would be a mother to a normal baby boy. The grace did not fluctuate, accepting its fate, and Y/N let him follow over, into the other side.

When she opened her eyes, everything around her was white, almost blinding, and she released her cargo, allowing it to melt into the space around her. For a brief second, it took the form of a handsome young man, who smiled at her, before fading into nothingness.

“I knew you’d find the right way,” a voice muttered from behind her, and she turned, seeing Billie, stood with her arms folded, legs apart and a smirk on her face. Just like Y/N remembered. “It’s rare that grace gets personally delivered here, but I figured we should have a chat.”

“I didn’t know where else to put him,” Y/N replied, shrugging. “Here seemed… appropriate.”

“Will his father be here soon?” Billie asked, and Y/N sighed.

“I have not yet decided what to do with Lucifer. I know God did not want him dead; my father told me so. But he is… dangerous.”

Billie raised an eyebrow. “To the world… or to the Winchesters?” Y/N blinked at her and the reaper chuckled. “We can see everything from here. Fabric of the universe and all. And I’ve seen you with them. You’re part human, Y/N. And you’re allowing your human emotions to overrule the job you have to do.”

Y/N scoffed a little, rolling her eyes. “A job I never wanted.”

“A job you wouldn’t have, if it wasn’t for them,” Billie pointed out.

“I’ve moved past that,” came the growled response, and the reaper laughed again. “What’s so funny?”

“That you’ve fallen in love with your father’s killer,” Billie stated, looking altogether too smug. “Personally, I think it’s adorable, but professionally -” There was a odd noise surrounding them, and both women looked around, Y/N eyes widening at the sound. “Lucifer knows what you’ve done,” the reaper warned. “You’re going to have to clean up your mess.”

“I know.”

“And you know what that entails? That you may not survive?”

“I know,” Y/N repeated.

“And what about your future, if you have one?”

There was silence, and Billie waited patiently, almost as though she already knew the answer.

“I don’t want to be Death,” Y/N said. “I’ve had the taste of it, and it’s bitter in my mouth. I want the things I’ve been denied, like that child would have been. I want a life, I want friends, family… I want to love and be loved, Billie.”

“Someone has to be Death,” the darker woman pointed out, and Y/N sighed. “You have to choose someone to take the mantle. And none of the reapers down there are ready.” 

“You should do it.” Billie blinked, unsure of what she’d heard, her mouth working to form words, but Y/N beat her to it. “I can give you the power. Even here. If I pass the responsibility to you, then you can do the job I know you wanted. You just needed to be more than a reaper. The power would give you back your form, and turn you into something new.”

“Are you sure about this?” the reaper asked, and Y/N nodded. “I mean, really sure? There’s no going back.”

There was a smile on Y/N’s face as she realized that this was all she wanted. “I’ve lived more lifetimes than I wanted. I want to live a normal life, as me. I don’t even care if… if they don’t want me - I’ll find something else.” Billie opened her mouth, but Y/N sensed the warning. “You can tell me that they are dangerous all you want, Billie, but you haven’t seen their connection, their  _ family _ like I have. I want that.”

“Oh, I’ve seen their connection, sweetheart. It’s risky, it’s a liability…”

“It’s what I  _ want _ .”

Billie went silent, staring at her, contemplating the offer in front of her, and Y/N waited with baited breath. She couldn’t give the power to someone who didn’t want it. Seconds ticked by, and she noticed she’d been holding her breath the whole time.

“Is that all you want?” Billie asked, and Y/N let a smile cover her face.

“There might be one other thing…”

*****

The cold steel against her throat made her open her eyes, and she frowned as she saw Castiel kneeling over her, determination on his face. Y/N blinked, pushing him away and sitting up, glancing towards the bed where Kelly was still unconscious.

“What did you do to her?” the angel seethed, and Y/N scowled.

“I gave her the chance to raise her son,” she spat in return, and he stepped back in bewilderment. “The child no longer has grace. She’ll live, and he won’t destroy the world.” She brushed herself down, closing her eyes for a brief second, knowing that she didn’t have long. Immediately, her first concern was for Sam and Dean, and she stretched out her senses, finding them alive but in danger.

She brushed off her need to go to them, knowing they were not going to die today, or indeed, tomorrow. But, if she didn’t do what she needed to do, they would most certainly die when Lucifer found them.

“You’re Death,” Castiel mused, letting his blade fall to his side.

“For now,” she acknowledged, opening her eyes again. “You need to take her somewhere else. Lucifer is coming, and he’s pissed.”

“You cannot face him alone -” the angel started, only for Y/N to raise her hand and halt his speech.

“I can, and I will.” Raising her hand, she pointed at Kelly. “Take her home. Go to the Winchesters - they need your help.” Castiel stared at her, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if he was confused or constipated, but she didn’t have time to set him straight. “Go!” she shouted, and the angel moved, scooping Kelly up into his arms gently, and disappearing with the flutter of wings.

A second later, the ground shook. She took a deep breath, exiting the room and walking down the stairs with purpose, just as the door burst open, splinters of wood flying everywhere. Lucifer stormed in, eyes red and anger pulsating from him.

“Lucifer,” Y/N greeted calmly, and he glared, clenching his fists at his side.

“What have you done, you bitch?”


	6. Part Six

Dean withdrew from the family hug, feeling relief and happiness that his family was whole and together. The British Men Of Letters were gone, defeated on US soil at least, and he hoped they wouldn’t make a return. Castiel had turned up at the last minute, helping them escape the bunker, and with the help of other hunters, they’d taken the Brits on and won.

“So, we still have a devil child problem to deal with?” he asked, turning his attention to Cas, who was hovering in the background of the family moment.

The angel hesitated, before shaking his head. “The baby is no longer a threat.”

Sam stared, looking confused at the statement. “Wait, what?”

“Death came,” Castiel started. “She did… something. Removed the grace from the child, like you intended,” he nodded in Sam’s direction, “and Kelly Kline is now home, with family, preparing herself for the arrival of her completely human son.”

“What about Lucifer?” Mary asked, eyebrows knit together in concern.

Cas shrugged. “I do not know. I… I left Death to face him alone.”

Dean looked at Sam, worry etched across his features. “Y/N… you left her with Lucifer?”

“She did not give me her name. She told me to take Kelly home, and to find you, that you were in need of assistance. That was when I came to free you from the bunker.” He looked a little hopeless. “I do not know what happened after that. I haven’t felt anything…”

“The only thing that can kill Death is the scythe, right?” Dean asked, directing his question at Sam, who shrugged.

“We don’t know how powerful Lucifer is,” the younger Winchester pointed out. “Cas, where did you leave her?”

“North Cove, Washington.”

Dean frowned, shaking his head. “That’s over a day’s drive. How long since you left her?”

“Three or four days.”

The older Winchester brother nodded, looking at Sam. “Follow us up in the car. Cas?” The angel gave him a blank look as he crossed the room towards where he was standing. “Take me there.”

“Are you -”

There was a deep glare on the hunter’s face. “Take me to her.” Castiel sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, before closing his eyes and both of them disappeared.

When Dean saw his surroundings, his heart fell. The area around them was decimated - trees were felled, and the water lapped at a shore covered with debris. Where there had been a cabin beforehand, was now only foundations and wooden posts, like the aftermath of a tornado. Castiel released his shoulder, and Dean stepped forward, looking around.

“Dean, this does not look promising…”

“Shut up,” Dean growled in response, not bothering to look at him as he stepped forward. “Help me search.”

The sun was low on the horizon, and Dean ached more than he thought possible. He was still injured from fighting Ketch, and a little fuzzy from the mental encounter with his mom, but he knew he had to find Y/N. If she’d taken on Lucifer alone…

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about how fond he’d become of the woman since he’d met her, despite the bad blood between them, and despite her being Death. There was something in her that drew him in, that mesmerized him, and it hurt his heart to think he’d be bereft of the chance to know her better.

“Anything?” he called out, and the angel shook his head, sifting through debris and rubble from the house. Something major had gone down - scorch marks littered the ground, and the entire area was silent. No birds, no bugs - nothing was alive for miles around.

Hours passed, and they didn’t find anything, and they’d only managed to sift through half the ruins of the house so far. It was probably a good thing they hadn’t found any blood, any evidence that anyone was hurt - but Dean was losing hope rapidly.

The sun went down, leaving the moon to hang in the sky like a beacon, and Dean finally collapsed onto his ass, stretching his legs out in the dust and grit from the demolished house. Castiel stopped searching, coming to stand next to him. “Dean…”

“What?”

“I do not sense any life here,” the angel murmured, his word hesitant. “You are exhausted, and injured. Allow me to -”

Dean cut him off, not looking at him, his gaze focused on the moonlight shining over the water. He didn’t want to think about the possibility that she was gone. “No. I just need a quick breather.”

“Lucifer may have entirely destroyed her. Which means he could be coming for you.” The hunter offered nothing but a shrug, stubbornly staring into the distance, and Castiel sighed heavily. “Why do you care if Death survived? You killed her predecessor.”

“Because…” Dean started, feeling his eyes stinging with either emotion or exhaustion - he didn’t want to decide which. “I don’t know, alright? All I know for certain, is that she helped us, and she… she didn’t want to be what she was. I know it. I saw it in her, and…” His voice fell to a whisper. “I have to find her, Cas. I owe her that much.”

The angel didn’t reply, and dropped to a seated position beside his friend, knowing that despite his claim to only need a brief rest, he was about to drop. He reached out, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder, allowing his grace to heal the worst of his wounds. Dean gasped at the sensation, before blinking and muttering a thanks.

“Someone definitely made an impression on you.” Both men turned, seeing Billie stood in the darkness, her smile wide as she watched them. “I thought for sure you’d have given up by now.”

“Billie…” Dean frowned, scrambling to his feet, Cas mimicking his gesture, pulling his blade free. “You’re dead.”

“I know, right? But I look fabulous,” she quipped, placing her hands on her hips, her eyes sparkling. “You’re one to talk, anyway. How many times you died now?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, and Castiel took a step forward, only to find his friend’s hand flat against his chest, holding him back. “Why are you here?”

Billie hummed, rolling her shoulders. “Someone handed Papa’s bag down to me. I’m the new Death in town, chosen specifically for the job.”

“Because you never wanted it, right?” Dean scoffed, and Billie laughed pleasantly.

“I wanted it more than someone who was stuck with it. We had a deal, and damn, did she hold up her end of the bargain.”

The hunter’s teeth ground together, and he struggled to stop Cas from charging the reaper where she stood. “Where is she?”

“She’s here. Sleeping. Waiting for you,” Billie almost sing-songed. “The devil is gone. Obliterated. Sent to the same place all angels go where they die - where she took his spawn too. World is saved for another day, boys. Congratulations.” She shook out her thick mane of hair, gesturing to the storm cellar of the house, the only piece of wood not shattered by the confrontation that had clearly gone down. “It’s like a fairy-tale, don’t you think? Except, the princess saved your asses. She’s even got to promise that you and Sam? You get your heaven. I’d be content to cast you into the Nothing, for all eternity, but that girl… she’s got a way of convincing you to be a little human, ya know?”

Another smile, and Billie weathered Dean and Cas’ twin glares, before she gave a little bow.

“Good luck, Dean. You’re gonna need it!”

She disappeared, leaving both of them standing in confusion. Dean’s eyes slid to the storm cellar door, and he moved quickly, tugging on the stiff handles, unable to move it. In the next second, Castiel was at his side, lending his strength to move the doors. They opened with a bang, sending dust and wood splinters flying into the air.

“Y/N?” Dean called, stepping down onto the concrete staircase, seeing nothing but darkness, and he realized that he didn’t have his flashlight. Somewhere in the pitch black, someone whimpered, and he tore down the stairs,  almost tripping at the bottom. “Y/N!” His voice was desperate, and the thin light from the moon allowed his eyes to adjust.

In the destruction of the cellar, among the wood and stone, and destroyed pieces of furniture, Y/N was lying on her side, propped up on a tattered cushion. Her eyes were half open, and she looked like a walking bruise.

Dean skidded onto his knees at her side, lifting her gently from her resting place, smoothing her hair back from her face with one hand. “Hey, hey,” he whispered. “Sssh, I got you.”

“She is badly injured,” Castiel muttered, moving around to her other side, hovering his hand over her body. “And…” He paused, frowning. “Dean, she’s human.”

“What?”

“She’s mortal.”

Y/N groaned, managing to open her eyes a little more. “Dean?”

“I’m here. It’s me,” he replied, placing his full attention on her. “You’re okay, you’re alive.” He looked up to Cas for clarification, and the angel frowned, before nodding slowly.

“Her injuries are not life threatening. She has a broken ankle and numerous bruises, but I can heal her.”

Dean couldn’t help the sigh of relief that left him, and he stroked Y/N’s cheek with the back of his hand. “What were you thinking?” he asked, more wondering aloud rather than directing the question at her, but she answered anyway.

“Someone had to do something,” she whispered, her voice as cracked as her lips. “He needed to be destroyed.” Her eyes fell shut again, and Dean’s face became riddled with panic. Her breathing was labored, and he couldn’t help but worry that Castiel was wrong about the extent of her injuries.

The angel sensed his concern, placing his hands on the unconscious woman, one on her shoulder and the other on her hip. Light glowed underneath his fingers, and Dean could feel the warmth spreading through her skin. Seconds later, the light faded and Y/N took a deep breath, coughing as she regained full consciousness.

“Dean?” she repeated, clearing her throat and sitting up. “What… what the hell happened?”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “We were sorta hoping you could tell us,” he quipped.

She looked around at the ruins of the cabin, frowning as memories trickled back to her. “I… Lucifer. He came here, when he felt… I took the child’s grace to where angels pass.” The phrase wasn’t one Dean had heard before, and he filed it away for future reference. “He was angry. We fought, and it… it felt like hours. Days.” She sucked in another breath. “He was stronger than I thought he would be.”

Castiel stood, looking around the cellar. “Billie said you obliterated him.”

Y/N offered a weak smile. “Eventually.” She shifted, uncurling her legs, and Dean immediately struck out a hand to help her up. “Thanks”, she said, leaning into his welcomed aid. “I guess… she held up her end of the deal.”

“She said something about it. Said she was the new Death,” Dean responded, quirking his eyebrows upwards. “Care to elaborate?”

She was quiet for a moment, avoiding his gaze, her cheeks darkening with what he could only assume to be shame. “I never wanted to be Death. I never expected to have to be him.” Dean dropped his head, knowing that was his fault, but her fingers came up to touch his chin, making him look at her, and her eyes shone as she smiled. “I don’t blame you, Dean. You did what you had to, to protect your brother. For family.” A sigh escaped her, and she looked towards the cellar entrance. “I never had that. Never had a life, or a chance of one. I’d have lived forever alone, and that just seemed… really fucking depressing.” He blinked at the bluntness of her statement, but she smiled at him again, dropping her hand to take his fingers between hers. “So I asked Billie to take it away. To take my power. She agreed, as long as I cleaned up the mess.”

“She must have known that you might die doing it?” Dean asked, feeling more than a little anger towards the dark woman he’d clashed with on more than one occasion. Y/N shrugged, the smile not leaving her face.

“It was worth the risk.”

“For what?” he asked, still unsure.

“For family,” she replied “The chance to have one. Friends. Something more than drifting through decades, experiencing life but never really…  _ living _ .” Tears were dripping down her cheeks, and without even thinking, Dean lifted his free hand, wiping them away with his thumb. “Definitely worth the risk,” she whispered, and he smiled.

“What will you do now?” Castiel asked, still looking confused. “You have no home, no way of surviving… I’ve been human before and I found it very difficult to adjust.”

Y/N flashed him a grin. “Don’t you think I thought of all that? I’ve got more than enough to live on. I have my apartment, all legal and everything. I did have a life before I became Death, Castiel. I just didn’t know what to do with it.” She looked back to Dean. “Wouldn’t mind a little help, though.”

Dean laughed, tightening his fingers around hers. “Sweetheart, it would be my pleasure.”


	7. Part Seven

“You’re sure you want to stay here?”

It was a question Sam had asked a thousand times. On the trip up to sort out her apartment, on the trip back with the few belongings she didn’t want to part with. He asked again when they’d headed out on a hunt, a few days after the final showdown. And once again when they’d returned, finding her dealing with a flooded laundry room.

Her answer was always the same.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Dean never asked. He sometimes got this wistful little smile on his face, and shook his head when Sam posed the question, but he never asked  _ why _ she was so insistent on staying at the bunker with them.

When it came down to it, Y/N thought maybe being alone was a big part of it. She’d spent her whole life sheltered from other humans, and now she was one, she didn’t want to be on her own. Shopping, eating out, visiting places she’d been hundreds of times before - it was all new and fresh. Even her favorite foods tasted different to her now, and she was discovering things within weeks that she hadn’t found out about herself in decades.

She wasn’t interested in hunting. That was one point she’d made clear to both Winchesters. Although she was more than happy to share her extensive knowledge, she refused to pick up a weapon, informing them that she’d done her fair share of killing, and didn’t have the stomach for it.

Only Dean had resisted that, posing theoretical situations in which she would need to defend herself, and she’d retorted that she would cross that bridge when it came to it. Sam was quick to change the subject, avoiding any potential argument.

It was nearing Christmas. Y/N had been living at the bunker for months, and the boys had been gone on a hunt for over a week. She was making plans for their return, as she’d never really gotten to celebrate the holidays before, and wanted to do something to mark the occasion this year. Being that friends were in short supply - she’d made a few here and there, but not people she could invite to the odd habitation they had - there was only the people she’d met through Sam and Dean. Mary was driving in from where she was finishing up a hunt in Portland, and Jody was bringing both her girls down. Garth, a quirky hunter-turned-werewolf, had declined the invitation, due to his wife being too far along in pregnancy.

Mary had phoned ahead, just to let Y/N know she was leaving soon, and they’d ended up having a long conversation on the phone. Out of all the people Y/N had expected to help her adjust, Mary Winchester had been the biggest surprise. Free the control of the Men Of Letters, she found that the older (looking) woman, was gentle and kind, and extremely supportive.

Especially on one issue.

“So, Y/N,” Mary began, and Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the subject she knew was coming. “Have you spoken to Dean yet?”

The first response was a sigh, and Mary’s chuckle was audible on the other end. “No. And I’m not planning to. He’s… he’s been clear about this. We’re friends.”

“From what you were saying last month, it wasn’t so clear.”

“Should I really be talking about this with his mom?” she asked, and Mary laughed again. “I mean, I’m… I’m not really  _ that _ type of girl…”

“What? Are you saying my son isn’t good enough for you?” Mary questioned, the mock seriousness of her tone making Y/N smile. “Just tell him. Tell him the reason you gave up immortality was because of him.” Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but Mary interrupted. “Okay, not the whole reason. But a big chunk of it.”

“You assume too much,” she retorted.

There was a smile in Mary’s voice. “I know. It makes me an awfully good hunter.” She paused, and Y/N heard rustling in the background. “You have nothing to lose, Y/N. Just tell him.”

“Maybe,” Y/N conceded, fiddling with the loose hem of her shirt. A thread had come free from its bindings, and she knew she’d have to sew it up before it destroy the entire thing. “But anyway, what did you get Sam for Christmas? I’m struggling.”

The conversation changed, and Mary knew it was because she was avoiding the subject, but she didn’t press any further. By the time the Winchester matriarch hung up, the bunker door was slamming open, and the two Winchester brothers were ambling through the hall, arguing their way down the steps.

“I’m just saying, you could have been wrong.” Dean looked grumpy as he emerged from the stairs onto the paved floor of the war room, and Y/N moved into the doorway, watching both men fondly. Sam shook his head, dumping his bag on the map table.

“But I wasn’t. You’d think, after this long, you’d trust my judgement.”

“I do trust it,” Dean argued back. “But it did look an awful lot like a chupacabra.”

“You were in Michigan,” Y/N interjected. “Chupacabra do not like the snow.”

Their eyes shot to you, and Sam smirked, shrugging. “Well, Dean thinks they could.” He yawned widely, and nudged his brother with his elbow discreetly. Dean scowled, glancing at him as Sam chuckled and moved away. “I’m beat. See you guys in the morning?” His eyes lingered on Dean, and the scowl on the elder brother’s face deepened. “Get on with it, dude.”

Y/N frowned, unsure of what Sam meant, but she bade him goodnight as he disappeared down the corridor. Dean sighed, lifting his bag and placing it on the table. “What was that about?” she asked, wandering a little closer, and Dean avoided the question.

“When’s Mom getting here?” he muttered, not sounding like he was the least bit interested in the Christmas spirit. 

“She was leaving about five minutes ago. Staying the week.” Dean nodded, emptying his bag out one piece at a time, and Y/N watched, wondering what his mood was all about. “Are you really that pissed it wasn’t a chupacabra?”

He shook his head. “No. Just…” He sighed, dropping his hands onto the table, box of fake IDs rattling in his hold. “You know when you’ve been putting something off, and it just gets scarier and scarier?” Y/N nodded. “Well, it’s something like that.”

“Okay,” she replied, dragging the word out. “Does this have something to do with what Sam said?”

Dean gave a low laugh, but it sounded sarcastic. “Yeah. Sam’s got a thing he won’t drop.”

“What thing?” Y/N asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Dean released the tin, turning to face her with his full body, and she sucked in a breath, caught in the trap of his eyes. He leaned in, the smallest amount, and electricity seemed to curdle her veins.

“This thing,” he whispered, before slipping his hands around her waist, pulling her in close to kiss her softly. She moaned in response, curving her body into his, letting his lips glide against her own until she felt her lungs burning for breath. Dean smirked as he pulled away. “I really hate that my brother is always right.”

Y/N blinked, staring up at him. “I’m not going to complain,” she replied. “But how long have -”

“Since the minute I met you,” he answered, cutting off her question. “You’ve been… fuck, you’ve saved our lives, and I didn’t think you’d even look at me twice. And having you here has been the most agonizing torture and amazing experience at the same time. I’ve stopped at your door so many times, trying to figure out how to tell you that I… that I…”

“I love you,” Y/N finished, quietly, struggling against the urge to look away in case he rejected her. Dean’s breathing hitched, and he nodded, his eyes a little watery. “Me too,” she admitted, a coy smile on her lips.

He didn’t speak, crushing his lips to hers again, lifting her up so her legs hooked around his waist. Laying her on the table, he pushed the two bags off, letting them crash to the ground with a loud noise, but he didn’t stop kissing her. Fingers grappled with clothing, both of them desperate to feel the other -

The sound of a throat clearing made them stop and look towards the door, where Sam was standing in his pyjama pants and v-neck shirt, looking a little sheepish.

“Sorry. Thought you might be killing each other.”

Y/N giggled, and Dean smiled down at her. “Wanna take this somewhere more private?” he asked, and she nodded, letting him help her up, before taking his hand and pushing past Sam to head towards Dean’s bedroom. The younger Winchester stood in silence for a second, before glancing to the library.

“I think I’m going to read,” he said aloud, to no one but himself, knowing that his room was not going to be a quiet haven for him tonight.

Dean slammed the door shut, giving it two seconds before he was against her again, his hands wandering everywhere. He couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t touch her in enough places at once, and by the looks of it, neither could Y/N. She ripped at his shirt, sending buttons flying, urgently trying to get the material off of him.

“Impatient,” he groaned, feeling her teeth attack his bottom lip as she kissed him. A high pitched giggled accompanied her fingers in the waistband of his pants, and he grunted, his fingers grasping her head to kiss her furiously. “Bed, now,” Dean ordered, pushing her backwards as they broke apart.

Y/N pulled off her tee, flinging it across the room as she moved towards the bed, removing her pants as she went, and Dean almost tripped trying to get his boots off. He stripped down his pants, leaving his boxer shorts on, seeing the way her eyes flickered down to grace the tented fabric. “Hmmm.” She grinned, reaching out to grab the elastic of them, dragging him forward. The boxers joined the rest of his clothing on the floor, and Y/N wasted no time in wrapping her delicate fingers around his thick length. “Want me to suck your cock, Dean?”

He nodded, jaw lax, unable to string words together, only managing a strangled noise as she licked the tip of his cock, teasing him gently. The second she sank down on him, her hot wet mouth tightening around his sensitive dick, he thought he saw stars. She took him all the way, the tip bumping against the back of her throat and then further down as she deepthroated him.

“Fuuuuck.” The drawn out moan reverberated around the room as Y/N continued to suck him off, using her fingers to tease his balls, cupping them and rolling them. It was a combination that had Dean panting and begging, and for a second, he wondered how long it would take him to recover if he came in her pretty mouth. 

She pulled back, looking up at him with one hand wrapped around his cock, wide eyes and coy smile making him groan. “Wanna taste you,” she whispered, before returning her mouth to him, and Dean had to place one hand on the back of her head to steady himself as she bobbed her head enthusiastically. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna -” he drew his hips back, only to have her hands holding him in place, encouraging his climax, using her tongue to push him over the edge. Dean found himself unable to breathe as he came down her throat, his eyes focused on her pleasured gaze as she swallowed every last drop of him down.

When she finally released him, he remembered to use his lungs, and almost collapsed. His cock was rapidly softening, and for a moment, he felt disappointed, until he looked up and saw her, laid back on his bed, her thighs apart, baring her glistening pussy to him.

“Now there’s a view I could get used to,” he muttered, leaning on the edge of the bed with his hands, smirking at her, despite struggling to gain his breath. “Move up a little, sweetheart.” She obeyed, shifting herself up the bed, looking down at him as he crawled between her thighs. A squeak left her as he touched his tongue to her cunt, trailing along her outer lips with softest of touches.

“Dean -” she panted, gripping the sheets either side of her hips. He grinned, absolutely confident in his abilities, and promptly licked up the length of her slit with his tongue pressed flat against her and she shuddered in response, releasing a wail of pleasure. She was panting heavily already, and Dean kept repeating the action, stopping to tease her clit, before sliding back down to thrust his tongue into her hole as far as it would go. 

The noises she made spurred him on, and he gripped her thighs with his hands, dragging her closer. His cock was hardening again, brushing against the sheets as he ate her out, burying his face in her cunt until she was begging in wordless mewls, her walls contracting around his tongue as he fucked it into her.

“Dean, Dean, I’m, I -” her words dissipated, and she bucked hard, almost dislodging him as she rode her orgasm out on his mouth. Dean just kept going, harder and harder, determined to make her see stars.

Her fingers were on his hair, tugging at the thick strands, and he reluctantly abandoned her, letting her pull him up to face her. The kiss she bestowed on him made his cock swell to full mast, and he rutted against her, letting his length slide through her soaked folds.

“Want you,” she purred, bumping her nose against his, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Then have me,” he replied, with a small shrug of his shoulders. Dean could honestly say, he’d never get enough of her kisses, letting her take the lead. Her legs hooked around his waist, rolling them so she was on top, and she gripped his cock at the base, lining him up, before sinking down onto him. Both of them groaned in tandem, and Dean looked up at her with an expression of wonderment.

“What?” Y/N asked, looking a little bashful.

“You’re just… fucking amazing,” he mused, running his hands over her thighs, up and over the softness of her belly, cupping her breasts. “So beautiful.”

Y/N smiled, leaning back and clenching around him, making him moan deeply. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she whispered, grabbing his hands with hers, encouraging him to massage her breasts as she started to move up and down on top of him.

She was so hot and wet, and the sensation of her pussy sucking him in over and over again, was enough to have his brain reverting to “tree pretty, fire bad” mode. There weren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe the feeling of her on top of him, the way she moved, the softness of her full breasts in his calloused fingers. Tiny whimpers and moans left her, and Dean found himself watching her get her pleasure from him, rather than focusing on his own enjoyment.

He’d never know why he waited so long to tell her. Tell her that he knew she’d given up so much for him, that he would give up the same for her.

Her body trembled as she got herself off using his cock, and Dean used his thumbs to tease her nipples, relishing the way she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, trying to stifle her cries as she came for him again. Her movements dulled into a steady roll of her hips on him, and he gently lifted her, rolling her onto the bed beside him.

“Dean?” she whispered, giving him a lazy smile.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me.” The words were a sultry plea, and Dean leaned in, kissing her furiously, his hands lifting her leg so he could run two fingers through the slick mess of her cunt. “Please…”

“How?” he asked, watching her twitch as he teased her clit with his fingertips.

“From behind,” she replied, her eyes closed as he felt her body shake. Dean groaned at the answer, abandoning his touch on her pussy, and she moved onto all fours, presenting her ass in the air. He stooped, playfully nipping at the soft swell of her ass, and she yelped, giggles subsiding into a whine as Dean rubbed the head of his cock against her slit.

“You ready for me, princess?” 

Y/N nodded, pressing back as he pushed forward, his hands gripping her ass tightly as he sank into her to the hilt. She felt tighter, hotter, from this angle, and he could feel the tight clutch of her cervix as the tip of his length pressed into it. She was making soft little whimpers, letting her head drop to the mattress.

“Please, Dean, fuck me,” she begged again, and he groaned, lifting his chin into the air as he started to pound into her, holding her ass steady. Within seconds, she was screaming, and flexing around him, and he knew he wouldn’t last long.

“Got me so fucking wound up, baby,” he grunted, feeling his balls tighten. Y/N cried out in response, and a split second later, he felt her hand on his balls, rolling them softly between her fingers. “Oh fuck, Y/N, don’t… don’t stop, I’m gonna…”

“Come inside me, Dean,” Y/N choked out, pushing back onto him. “Wanna feel you.”

He closed his eyes, the sudden explosion of pleasure bursting through his groin, and he slammed into her one last time, holding himself against her ass as he emptied into her. Her hand left his balls, and she went limp, breathing heavily, her head to the side with a languid grin on her face.

His cock throbbed as he pulled away, spent from exertion, and he didn’t bother to clean up as he collapsed onto the bed beside her. She rolled onto her side, staring at him with that happy smile firmly affixed to her face.

“I thought it would be better,” she whispered, trailing her hand up his bare chest, circling his nipple as he raised one arm to fold it underneath his head. “I mean, everything seems more intense now anyway…”

“Was I just an experiment?” Dean asked, playfully, capturing her hand in his, bringing her fingers up to kiss her knuckles, and she giggled.

“Dean Winchester, you could never be just an experiment,” she replied, moving closer to him, pressing her lips to his. “You gave me a reason to be the person I am.”

“What reason was that?”

Y/N was silent for a moment, staring into his face, almost close enough that it hurt the back of her eyes to do so, but she didn’t want to look away. “Love,” she whispered, and he smiled, watching as she settled herself underneath his arm, curled into his side, not caring that they were horizontal on the bed. “All I wanted was to belong.”

He sighed, kissing the top of her head. “You belong here. With me. With Sam. Doing stupid Christmas shit.”

She laughed under her breath. “You sure about that?”

There was a pause, and Dean looked up at the ceiling, his arm tightening around her, his heart telling him that he could never let her go; there was only one answer to her question.

“I’ve never been more sure in my life.”


End file.
